


maybe that's just not the way for us

by erialeduab



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:57:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erialeduab/pseuds/erialeduab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Static Abyss's lovely Soul Marks AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we all share the pain of our histories

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You'll remember me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175810) by [static_abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stiles - lydia - derek - jackson

Stiles Stilinski is seven years old when he firsts sees Lydia Martin. She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole school, and she doesn’t even know he exists.

Stiles is eight when his soul mark appears, running down the length of his spine. But the words “I’m supposed to know you” don’t really mean anything to him, he doesn’t quite know what to make of them.

_I’m only human_. Derek Hale refuses to accept that his soulmate is human until he meets Kate Argent. But she never says the words, despite knowing them. Maybe she thought the game would be up if she said them, knowing they would never turn. And before he knows it all there’s left is the wreckage of the fire and any thought of the marks are just a reminder of what he doesn’t have.

Stiles is twelve when Lydia says the words on his back, but there’s a question mark at the end of it, and Lydia mocks his attempts at conversation as thirteen year olds do. Scott McCall doesn’t know what to do when his best friend excitedly tells him he’s found his soulmate, that it’s Lydia Martin, that she said the words on his back and that he knew it all along.

Lydia Martin is not a cynic. But when the words on your ankle are “Excuse me” written in the most illegible scrawl possible, you start to lose hope. Fast. There was that period in elementary school, when she was scared that she might bump into her soulmate in a crowded place and lose them. Scared that she might mourn for something that never was.

But by the Stiles Stilinski said those words to her in the sixth grade, Lydia had outgrown those fears. Realised that there was no point. Actually calculated the probability of it and the numbers depressed her.

Jackson Whittemore isn’t surprised at the words on the side of his rib cage. _I should hate you_. It’s written in small, tidy cursive. It isn’t lost on Jackson that he will become a terrible person. He believes the words, believes he should be hated. He knows his reputation and does nothing to fix it because this small part of him believes he deserves it.

Lydia and Jackson have been dating for three months and Jackson knows what she’s going to say before the words are out of her mouth. Can feel the burning before she finishes her sentence. So he let’s her work through it, trying to rationalize what she feels for him, spelling out all the reasons why they shouldn’t work. Knowing he’s never going to let her go, not if he can do something about it.

Stiles is seventeen when he asks Derek Hale out. There are no fireworks or rainbows or even sunshine. They are slumped against gravestones in the cemetery at four in the morning, bleeding from various cuts and gashes and Stiles’ barely audible “Will you go out with me?” feels like it belongs in a middle school cafeteria. But they were nearly killed and he’s exhausted. Derek’s quiet, resigned, “Yes” is comforting. Familiar. Like he’s coming home, at last.

Stiles is eighteen and he is storming into Derek’s loft because how dare he. How dare Derek go Batman on him and nearly get himself _killed_.

“I was handling it Derek, and I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t being reckless or stupid, I had backup.”

“I couldn’t just sit here waiting for somebody else to tell me that you’ve- You can’t just not tell me.” Derek growls out the last part, frustration and hurt and worry spilling out. Stiles doesn’t understand why Derek is being so unreasonable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew it was the only way, that they couldn’t read me. We had the element of surprise on our side. We have discussed this already Derek. I’m only human.” Stiles voice cracks at that, as he continues  
“But if I can help, I help.” Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out, collapsing on the couch in front of Derek, running a hand through his hair. His next question doesn’t have the energy or the anger.  
“Why?”

“Because, Stiles. I’m supposed to know.” Derek should be yelling but he’s infuriaritingly calm. “I’m supposed to know when you’re going to do something dangerous. I’m supposed to know even if you don’t want me to and I’m supposed to do stupid things trying to protect you. I’m supposed to know that your favorite show is Firefly and that you like to ironically watch crappy movies and that you only eat half your pizza crust. I’m supposed to know you.”

Derek doesn’t say I love you. Stiles doesn’t care because Derek has said more in the last two minutes than he has in the last month and he’s said it to Stiles. For Stiles. Stiles doesn’t even notice the burning on his spine or the blackened band around Derek’s arm until the next morning, when he wakes up wrapped in Derek’s arms.

Lydia is in college when Jackson leaves. She’s surprised that they lasted this long. Her words never turned black, but she loved him anyways. Jackson will always have a place in her heart, despite everything. Because nothing about them was ever rational, or logical, or any of those other big words Lydia used to get into Stanford. And nothing ever will be. Eventually, she accepts that.

Stiles is twenty eight when Derek Hale dies. Stiles knows they were living on borrowed time, knows that he was lucky to have had him for so many years. But a part of him doesn’t see the point of it anymore, as the words on his back fade to grey. Doesn’t understand why they fade because the part of him that belongs to Derek will never fade.

Stiles is thirty two when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a searing pain on his hip and sees four new words etched in grey on his skin. He doesn’t even look at the words, just goes back to sleep and hopes it’s only a dream. Knows it isn’t. It’s not that he doesn’t believe he can love again. He just doesn’t think he has the energy for another soulmate.

Lydia is thirty four when she bumps into Stiles in a coffee shop in San Francisco. Recognizes him as he brushes past her with a simple “Excuse me.” Grabs his wrist and sees the recognition on his face, and shows him her ankle. Maybe it’s the fates pushing them together. Maybe it’s the powers that be nudging them in the right direction. No one really knows why the marks appear, anyways.

It takes Stiles two more years before he’s ready to have the conversation he would have had with Derek, years and years ago. The one he was almost ready to have, the one Derek had been patiently waiting for. He’s surprises himself when he’s able to ask Lydia, “Do you want kids?” without any tears, and is less surprised when she replies “I think we’re ready”, and the tears come streaming down.

His hip burns black and he’s happy and sad and doesn’t quite know what to do about it.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from More Than This by Vanessa Carlton.


	2. there’s more to life than trying to survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> allison - scott - isaac

Allison Argent has mixed feelings about her words. The first set is on her wrist, for the whole world too see. It’s not exactly original, the neatly looping _I love you feels_ like it belongs in a chick flick. The second is written small and cramped and a little bit snarky at the nape of her neck. It’s not exactly a secret, but it feels that way. _I’m your weakness_. Allison likes it more than the first because she can imagine someone saying it to her with a smirk on their face.

Isaac Lahey is confused when, at twelve, two marks appear down the length of his arms. The one on the right reads  _We love you._ The scrawl is uneven, hopeful. It makes Isaac nervous, because it just seems so unnecessary for more than one person to love him at once. Frivolous, even. He refuses to entertain the notion because if his own father can barely tolerate him where is he going to find multiple soul mates?

The one on the left is bolder, more confident, and a little bit messy. _What are we waiting for?_ Isaac likes that one. It’s safe. Sometimes he fantasizes his prince coming to save him on his white horse (Isaac’s pretty sure it’s a boy’s handwriting). He clings to those fantasies when his father reminds him of all the reasons why boys are supposed to do the saving, not be saved themselves. Isaac doesn’t really want to be saved, knows he can’t be, but it’s nice to think that someone would care about him enough to try.

Scott’s words make him happy. Scott believes in his _I love you too_ with all his heart. When he finds Allison, it's a dream come true. But the words on his other wrist, the _you’re my anchor_  starts to scare him. He wonders who they belong to, because Allison also has a second set of words and he doesn’t know what that means for them. So he tries not to think about it, tries to focus on the present and enjoy every moment he has with her.

When Allison’s first set of words turn black, she knows that she and Scott aren’t going to live happily ever after. They have a little bubble of happiness right now, but it could burst at any time. And it does, when her mother dies. It’s the worst thing that could have happened, and she needs space, and time. She doesn’t know anything for certain, but she can’t risk losing Scott forever. She doesn’t make any promises, but he does.

Scott let's Allison go even as his wrist sears with her _I love you too_. Because he can't risk it either. Would rather have a lifetime of pain, a lifetime of seeing her with someone else, than to have to see the words fade.

Scott let's her go and Allison can’t stand it. Can’t stand that he doesn't fight for her, tooth and claw, but knows she loves him because of it. She keeps reminding herself that they are young, that they have time. But the bodies keep piling up, and any one of them could be next.

Allison comes to hate the person to whom the second set of words belong after her mother’s death. Everything is doused in a dreary, muddy reality, and she hates it. She hates that someone else could know her so well that they become a liability to her. So she does everything in her power to prevent it from happening, and her stubbornness leads her straight on the path to Isaac Lahey.

Isaac falls for Allison the way you fall off a cliff. It’s exhilarating and messy and excruciating, but the pain is nothing new for Isaac. At least there’s pleasure with the pain this time. At least he gets to choose who hurts him now, even if it is more than a little reckless. He's playing with fire fueled by alpha-levels of testosterone, especially after Derek kicks him out. His situation is absurd, he's living with his girlfriend’s ex-true-alpha-werewolf-boyfriend. There should be a manual for this. Especially when Scott is so damn nice about the whole thing. He must smell Allison’s shampoo on Isaac when he comes home from her place, must know what they were doing. And yet he is still Scott, kind and understanding with his warm chocolate eyes and a genuine interest in Isaac’s well-being.

Allison and Isaac are at her apartment and Allison is trying to end this three weeks before summer. End it before it’s too late and she’s too far lost in Isaac’s eyes and hair and cheekbones.

“I just think we shouldn’t do this - us - anymore. I like you so much, but it’s not… you’re not… you’re so different. From Scott. And it scares me because Scott’s predictable and dependable and my feelings for him are as constant. But you…”

Isaac smirks and opens his mouth and Allison’s heart starts hammering against her chest, and she mouths the words as he says them, “I’m your weakness”. Isaac doesn’t mean anything by it, says it so casually. But when Allison turns around and shows him the words her neck his smirk falls away and he curses himself for his terrible timing.

So Allison pushes Isaac away too. Because right now, she thinks the fates are playing a cruel joke on her. She’s in a vulnerable place, and she loathes it. Isaac’s words a constant reminder, burning away on her skin. But unlike her mother and her grandmother, Allison can’t just ignore her feelings either, because there’s more to life than just trying to survive. Allison doesn’t want to spend hers simply existing, but right now she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know how it’s possible to find two soul mates before you turn eighteen. She doesn’t know how you can love two people at once and be with neither of them. She doesn’t know why this is happening now. The list of things Allison Argent doesn’t know is longer than Beacon Hill’s list of unsolved murders.

Summer has begun and Isaac has stopped smelling like Allison. A small, messed up part of Scott misses it. Misses Isaac’s and Allison’s and his own scents fusing. Misses how good it felt. Doesn’t know why he liked it, when it goes against everything he thought he knew. It’s better this way, without her scent, because at least now he’s not confused. He’s used to missing Allison every second of every day. Allison tells him the day after her words turn for Isaac, and he still doesn’t know why she does. Maybe she’s trying to dissuade him from waiting for her. It hurts Scott that she’s moved on, but the _I love you_ on her wrist is still black and he knows it isn’t easy for her either. And Scott has promised that until the day those words turn grey, he will wait for her.

Isaac is everywhere. He sneaks into Scott’s life under the cover of summer, sneaks in without a warning. Scott doesn’t know how to escape him. Scott can smell their scents mix, as they borrow each other's ill-fitting clothes and Isaac uses his soap and shampoo. He can feel Isaacs thigh pressed up against his as they watch movies at night, after Melissa goes to work. He can hear his heartbeat loud as a drum on the nights Isaac crawls into bed with him after a night terror. Scott goes from being jealous of Isaac to jealous of Allison and he doesn’t even know when it happened. Isaac slips into his life how some people lie: too easily.

Isaac can’t help himself around Scott. Scott genuinely cares about Isaac as a person, and that’s not something Isaac is used to. Scott’s whole existence befuddles him, really. Scott just shouldn’t exist. He’s kind and gentle and fiercely protective – and he's also powerful and dominant. They go from rough housing it in training to doing the dishes together and being domestic in the blink of an eye and Isaac can’t separate the two Scotts. Feels something other than fear and submission when Scott growls his name, eyes red. Hugs him tighter than absolutely necessary when they take his motorbike to do grocery runs. Scott is safety and cozy duvets and quicksand that Isaac is slowly sinking into and doesn’t want to escape.

When Isaac spots the _you’re my anchor_ six weeks into summer, written so small on the inside of Scott’s wrist that he didn’t see it for months, he knows it’s his. He’s Scott’s. And Scott’s his. It makes no sense at all, and all the sense in the world, depending on how he looks at it. He looks at Scott and Scott looks back at him and Isaac says,

“My anchor changed after Derek kicked me out” He’s holding onto Scott’s wrist, as if Scott’s going to run away or the words are going to disappear. But Scott’s very much here, and he doesn’t look like he wants to be anywhere else.

“Am I your anchor?” They both know what’s coming next. Isaac can feel Scott's pulse under his fingers, hear his heartbeat loud and clear. But the look he's giving Isaac with those big, warm eyes is what makes Isaac grin so much it hurts, as he says,

“You’re my anchor”

When Scott texts Allison inviting her over for dinner with Isaac and him, Allison is nervous. She hasn’t really seen either of them all summer, not really. She’s been successfully ignoring the six words on her skin by distracting herself with defeating the monster of the week and training extensively.

The three of them are sitting at the dining table and everything is odd and formal. Scott puts a hand on her arm and it’s nice, steadying. Allison gives him a grateful look. She's almost forgotten what that stability feels like, how addictive it is. Then Scott turns his hand over, and Allison sees the black on his wrist and finally it all falls into place. Allison leans over and takes one of Isaac’s hands from across the table, and Scott takes Isaac’s other one. Allison knows the words on Isaac’s arms, knows what she has to say.

  
“We love you” Isaac smirks, interlocks his fingers with Allison’s and replies,

“I know” and Allison can’t help but laugh because she missed this. She missed that smirk, and his no-fucks-given attitude and she missed him.

“So.” Scott says, looking at both of them with his signature Scott grin, the one which could light up a thousand bulbs and possibly the whole world, “What are we waiting for?”

There is no Allison without Scott, no Scott without Allison. Isaac knows why his words don’t turn until they are all on the same page.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Annie by Vanessa Carlton.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://dwightyoumonkeyslut.tumblr.com).


	3. even if i live a piece of me will die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kira - cora - malia

Kira’s marks stops changing when she is eleven. She thinks it could be a good sign: her fate is written now, and she’ll find her soul mate when it’s time. As she gets older Kira tries to piece together what her soul mate will be like. She knows it’s going to be a girl. Kira can feel her strength in the smooth flow of the words spiraling down her calf. Maybe she’ll be really outspoken and confident and everything Kira’s not, or maybe they’ll be like Willow and Tara, and surprise each other. _Foxes and wolves can never be friends_. Kira is determined to prove those words wrong.

Cora Hale has the words _Foxes can be friends with anybody_ down the inside of her left forearm in light grey.

Kira Yukimura and Scott McCall could have been a thing, if he hadn’t been so completely in love with Allison and Isaac, and if Kira had been straight. Kira appreciates his friendship, anyways, even if he is the worst person to go to for dating advice.

When Kira first tells Derek her words he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. Just looks very stoic, a lot like the old Derek, like Stiles’ sourwolf, and she doesn’t know why. She places a hand gently on his leg, trying to reassure him that whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.

“Your… It was Cora.” Derek can barely get the words out because this can’t be happening. He can’t be responsible for killing the love of his best friend’s life on top of everything else, he just can’t. This is the straw, and his back is breaking. Kira’s gone very pale and her heart’s beating a hundred beats per second and the hand on his leg is shaking as she asks, “Your sister?”

“Yes.”

Derek’s crying. Derek’s crying and Kira can’t do anything except pull him into a hug and try to tell him that it’s not his fault. Wants to thank him for telling her, because otherwise she’d be looking in all the wrong places. Wants to tell him that not knowing would have been worse. That now she won’t spend her life waiting for someone who’ll never come. That at least she has him, and he can tell her about Cora. They can remember her, even if she’s gone, and they can love her anyways. But she can’t say any of it, because Cora is dead and she never even met her.

Kira learns about Cora from Derek, little by little. Each story, each memory is another step closer to unraveling the mystery of her soul mate, and Kira thinks she can live with this. Until Derek sees what she’s trying to do and warns her not to.

Derek and Kira are sitting at corner booth at the diner, and their milkshakes have just arrived. Without even looking at it, Derek pushes his milkshake aside and says, almost angrily,  
“I can’t do this anymore” As usual, Derek starts a conversation from the midst of his thoughts, but Kira knows to keep quiet and let him speak. “I can’t watch you throw your life away because of a memory” He grinds the last word out, as if it’s physically difficult to say it. Kira’s reaction is immediate: anger.

“I’m sorry?” Kira is deathly still, but Derek knows she’s seething. 

“You know what I mean Kira. I know what you’re doing. Hell, I did it. For years. I’m not telling you to forget about her but you can’t – you can’t stop living.”  
“What are you talking about? What am I doing, exactly?” Derek looks exasperated, but replies anyways,  
“You’re trying to live with her memory. It won’t work. No matter how many stories I tell you, and how many pieces of your ‘puzzle’ you have, it’ll never be enough Kira. You’ll never meet her and she’ll never meet you. You won’t change each other and grow together and be together. I don’t want to say it like this-  
“Then don’t” Kira can’t take this, her eyes are tearing up and she can’t stop herself.  
“But I have to. I can’t just stand by and watch you lose yourself” Derek reaches out to take her hand, but Kira moves it out of his grasp and grabs her jacket.  
“I have to go. Thanks for the milkshake.” Derek lets her go because he doesn’t know what else to say. As it turns out, they never do finish that conversation, because Cora Hale is not dead.

* * *

Cora Hale is not dead. Cora Hale is alive, thank you very much, and she’s getting her ass kicked by her older brother. They’re sparring like they used to, like she didn’t spend the last seven years in Mexico and he didn’t just tell her he’d found her soul mate. Actually, she’s fighting exactly like that just happened. She almost breaks his jaw, but the doorbell rings and Derek goes to get the door. It’s Kira, who looks from Derek to Cora, Cora supposes, because she’s literally seeing a ghost. Derek excuses himself, saying he needs to go get groceries or do laundry or both, Cora isn’t listening and doesn’t care. Kira is gorgeous and Cora is a sweaty mess of flyaway hair and she can’t tear her eyes away from her.

Kira is in shock. She’s still rooted at the entrance of Derek’s loft, and she doesn’t know how it’s possible. Cora is here, and she’s everything Kira thought she would be.

“Kira?” Cora shakes her out of her reverie and Kira startles, and tries to smile, but it falters and she doesn’t try to do anything about it.  
“Yeah. Yes. That’s me. I’m Kira.” She’s rambling and it’s really not the best first impression but there’s nothing she can do about it, just like she can’t stop looking at Cora’s dark brown eyes.  
“I’m Cora” Cora says, unnecessarily. But what else is there to say? Hi Kira, we’re soulmates but I was almost burnt to death in a fire seven years ago and I’ve since become a member of a mafia werewolf pack in Mexico. Nice meeting you too. She goes with “Derek told me about us- about you”

Kira takes a few tentative steps in her direction, as if Cora would just up and run if she moved too fast. “I thought you…”  
“Were dead? It’s a common misconception, spread by my brother dearest” Cora’s flippant on reflex, but she has other reasons. Kira makes her nervous, for one.

“But… when did this happen? Why didn’t he tell me?” Kira’s voice is full of trepidation, as if this might be some kind of trap she’s fallen into.

“Only a day ago. He thought it would be best to just meet face to face. He didn’t want to let you down. He really cares about you,” The last part is an afterthought, because Cora is still processing that Derek has a new pack now. A new family. One which Cora can never be a part of.

“Can I touch you?” Kira still can’t believe her eyes. She’s afraid Cora might vanish if she blinks, and her eyes are stinging. Cora looks at her for a second before slowly nodding. Tentatively, Kira reaches out and takes her left wrist, gently turning her wrist over to see the words in grey, where she knows they’ll be, and runs her fingers lightly over the words.  
Cora tries not to shiver, to react to Kira’s touch in anyway. Because she can see it, can see what they would have been like. One version of her future, with one version of herself.

Cocky, overconfident Cora, who would have been besotted by Kira from the moment she met her. She would have flirted shamelessly with her without even glancing at her words, because they would have their whole lives ahead of them. Kira would have smelt so good and Cora would have been so gone. She could imagine taking Kira bowling or out to the diner. Cora would be willing to sit through an entire evening of mini-golf for Kira. There would be handholding and whispered conversations on front porches, maybe even stretch limousines and purple corsages.

Their kisses would be wonderful, Cora winding her hands in Kira’s long, glossy hair, and tasting her for the first time. Feeling Kira’s spark, her power, coursing through her. Watching her fight, spending long hours training in the woods with just their instincts to guide them. Feeling the adrenaline, the heat, with only Kira on her mind and in her thoughts and on her skin. They would learn each other’s words eventually, and Cora wouldn’t be scared of the commitment because she’d learn to love Kira. Properly and truly, the way she deserved to be loved. Cora can see it all so clearly, and that’s why it hurts so much that they can never have this.

Kira’s fingers are still ghosting over her arm, and all Cora wants is to touch her. But she knows if she starts down that path, it’ll be so much harder to leave it. So Cora looks at Kira’s face instead of her fingers, and that’s a mistake because Kira’s looking straight at her and it feels like she is x-raying her mind. Cora pulls her hand away quickly and looks away, at anything but her eyes. She doesn’t miss the way Kira’s face falls, the soft disappointment that is written on her face.

“Derek has told me so much about you” Kira decides to go for the obvious, since that seems to be the only thing her brain can process right now. Cora stiffens up when she hears this, and Kira feels rejected on some basic level, and she hates that she doesn’t know why.

Kira seems like a wonderful person, but Cora has no other choice. She doesn’t know anyone else who’s willingly thrown away their soul mate, but there’s a first time for everything. So she reassumes that familiar, stoic, Hale demeanor and just spits it out, because the longer she spends with Kira the less likely it is that she’ll be able to do this without breaking down.

“I’m not who you want me to be, not anymore”

“What… what do you mean? We’re… You’re my wolf.” The last three words get to Cora so much, because she wants to try it, so bad. So Cora resorts to curt and callous. It works on most people.

“Why? Because of a few words on your leg? The marks aren’t exactly an indicator of lifelong happiness Kira.”

“It’s so much more than that! Sure that helps, but Derek has told me so much about you. I care about you, I want to get to know you. It doesn’t have to be romantic. You can come home, and we could just try being friends.” Kira is stubborn, which Cora is unsurprised by considering how well she and Derek get along. “We have to at least try. Don’t you want to?” And Kira’s just so hopeful, so optimistic, and Cora wants to say yes, wants to forget about all of the shit outside that door, and just stay here with Kira and try. But life’s not fair, and they both know it.

Kira’s close to tears because they’re here, together, against all the odds. Don’t they deserve to be happy?

Cora’s resolve is slipping away, so she resorts to the brutal truth. Well, one version of it, anyways. “Seven years ago, on the night of the fire, my words stopped changing. At all. I’m pretty sure yours did too.” The look on Kira’s face tells her what she needs to know. “Maybe, in some alternate universe where the fire never happened, where I stayed in Beacon Hills and we met under different circumstances, we could be together. But I’m not the person who says those words to you now. I’m not – I can’t be that person.” Cora knows she’s won, although that’s a terrible word for it. It doesn’t feel like much of anything. She sees the little hope on Kira’s face die away and turn into resignation, and she doesn’t know why it hurts so much.

“I don’t believe you” Kira does, and knows Cora can tell she’s lying, but she says it anyways. Because she can’t have any what ifs or regrets.

Cora knows what Kira wants. She wants proof. She wants her to say the words and see them unturned. So she does, and Kira says hers and nothing happens, like they both knew it would. It still hurts as Kira leaves Cora standing in the middle of Derek’s loft, alone.

And that is how Kira Yukimura finds her wolf, and loses her in one fell swoop.

* * *

 

Malia Tate is this complicated mix of child and adult, and it’s hard to tell where she will be at any given point. She has no problems with gore and violence, and fights almost as well as Derek. But sometimes Kira will come visit and find Malia curled up in a ball at the foot of her bed, and it takes hours of coaxing and petting to get her to do anything at all.

Malia has trouble trusting any of them, apart from Stiles. They relied on each other in Eichen and Malia is protective of him. But for everyone else it’s a hot and cold process. She opens up to Isaac, because he’s the only one who can talk to her about her mother and sister. They compare their “fucked-up childhoods” and actually laugh about it sometimes. Harsh, bitter laughs that make Kira’s skin scrawl, and want to scream at the fates. Curse them for what they’ve done to her friends.

Malia doesn’t have any marks on her body but Kira doesn’t care about the marks, not since Cora. She prefers not to live her life by someone else’s rules.

The pack confuse Malia. She keeps expecting them to do something intelligent, to save themselves and get out when they have the chance, but they keep putting their lives in danger again and again, for complete strangers. It goes against every instinct Malia has, and it takes her months for her to quell those gut reactions. She wants explain to them that this world they inhabit, it’s wild. There are no rules in the wild. There are no innocents, there is no justice. In their world, heroes die.

She hears stories of the others, of Erica and Boyd, who left their pack. Learns about Derek and his various brushes with all kinds of demons, usually in the female form. And she learns that sometimes, pack dies too, like Aiden. The coyote in her tells her to run, to leave all of this mess behind and never look back. But her coyote has also bonded with the pack, and wants to stay with them. The human in her simply needs to know the truth about her parents.

Malia has zero fucks to give about her soul marks. Lydia tells her it’s because marks never appear on shape-shifters in animal form, and Malia was a coyote during the period of time, statistically speaking, they are most likely to appear. Lydia tells her that her marks could still appear, but Malia doesn’t need a tattoo to tell her if she loves someone.

Kira thinks that maybe Malia gets along better with boys because she can be rough with them. She tries to show Malia she can be one of the guys too, but Malia doesn’t really respond to it. Kira tries not to take it personally, she really does.

When Kira tries to act like the guys Malia doesn’t understand why. She’s likes her the way she is.

Kira is eighteen when Malia hugs her for the first time. There’s no reason for it, it’s just a hug. But Kira hugs her back, and she feels like she just crossed a line, that Malia trusts her now. That Malia cares about her enough to show her in a way that means something to Kira.

Malia is twenty-one and she’s just passed her GED. She’s so proud of herself for passing, for actually doing it. When she sees the smile Kira gives her, the lingering hug, well, that’s just a bonus.

Kira asks her out and Malia runs out of Kira’s dorm room and into the janitor’s closet. All things considered it’s one of Malia’s more socially acceptable reactions, but it isn’t quite how she was hoping to handle the situation. She’s nervous, for some reason, and anxiety is not an emotion Malia Tate is used to.

Kira finds her there a few minutes later and its all Malia can do not to run past her. Kira gets in and shuts the door behind her and asks,

“Was that a yes?”

Malia can hear Kira’s heartbeat picking up a little, hopeful. She can see Kira’s eyes glow amber as she leans in close, and ignores the rattling of the mops and brooms as she pushes Kira into the rack behind her. Her whispered “yes” is an afterthought, a reminder, still, after all these years, that she should use her words. She can feel Kira’s hands on her hips, pulling her in closer and Malia can’t wait anymore, just kisses Kira like it’s the last thing she’ll get to do.

The kiss is wonderful and magical and everything Kira thought it would be, even – no, especially, when the janitor finds them in there tangled up in each other like a pair of horny teenagers, surrounded by upended racks and broken light bulbs.

They get married when they are thirty-one and thirty-two, and there is an empty seat at their wedding table for Derek and Aiden and Erica and Boyd, and everyone else who couldn’t make it this far.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Someday's Gone by the All-American Rejects
> 
> I absolutely despised how the writers wrote and developed Malia's character in canon so in this fic I try, in some small way, to fix Malia. For example, although it isn't explicitly mentioned in the fic, Malia doesn't have a romantic relationship with Stiles in this fic (and never at Eichen!) nor does she go to high school. (Also I might be planning an entire fic to incorporate Malia in a way that doesn't make my blood boil but that's, quite literally, another story)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Last Weekend by The Tiny.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [ here](http://dwightyoumonkeyslut.tumblr.com)


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